


Another Time

by SicOfElephants



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Drug Use, Honestly this is a fucking shit show of emotion, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Torture, please don't read if you're sensitive to these things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 12:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15170576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SicOfElephants/pseuds/SicOfElephants
Summary: John Seed tries to convince Nick to join the cult, but there's a whole load of stuff inbetween. Things that could have happened if things were different. John becomes obsessed, and he can't let go.





	Another Time

**Author's Note:**

> This has a lot of triggering stuff in it, so please don't read if you are sensitive to it! Please see warnings. This is angst central, and was meant to be a potential part of my other John Seed/Nick Rye fic. I love the Rye's please don't hate me for these stories. Blame the discord.

Nick Rye was the biggest thorn in John Seed’s side, outright refusing any attempt at bargaining for his business, resistant to being bullied and manipulated into joining the Project at Eden’s Gate, and rejecting any attempts the Seed family made to convince him peacefully to join them and be safe with them after the Collapse. When John, Jacob, and Joseph had first moved into the county, Nick was one of the most welcoming to them, and he and John seemed always to have this unspeakable connection between them. Initially tasked with keeping Nick away from the operation near Rye & Sons Aviation, John had believed that reaching out to him had only been for the sake of appearances, and to quell any curiosity about the construction happening round the ranch. He realised not long after, that he had been seeking him out more and more often, until he spent most days in the hangar at some point, watching Nick work on Carmina, and talking to him about his own plane he had bought to fix up. Nick told him stories about his dad and grandpa serving in their wars and coming back to Carmina, how they always said it was that old girl keeping them safe and coming home to her. He could listen to Nick talk for hours, and Nick relished the company. It had been too long since anyone listened to his stories.

John had been consumed by his obsession for Nick like he was drowning, and it had not gone unnoticed. At first, Joseph believed if John could build a connection with Nick, he might join the Project, and as a pillar in the community of Holland Valley, might win them the favour of more people who could be saved. He sent John with soft words and dazzling smiles as he always did down to begin recruitment, and he worked as he always did, sweeping people off their feet with sugar sweet whispers of everything they wanted to hear, how the Project could save them, give them hope, give them a family, give them peace, whatever it was they most desired. John had mastered that look of awe as he spoke about the Project that had people kneeling at his feet. He told them they would be free from guilt, free from shame, free from sin, unbound and unshackled before society as it Collapsed into the earth and burned. 

When John first spoke to Nick of the true purpose of the Project, and Nick looked at him like he couldn’t believe it. Like the man he had known for the last few years had gone insane. They had become close, Nick spilling out his childhood, how he learned to fly, who he loved, what it was like growing up in Montana. John watched him mystified, having spent his youth in the darkest recesses of his mind, cutting, burning, breaking, scared, hungry, wanting. He saw the ease of Nick’s heart and he wanted it. Thought if he could get at it, if he could touch it, if he could take his heart, he might find peace too. He had opened up to him, slowly at first, snippets of the life he had tried to smother back in Rome, tried to bury under rubble and forget. Told Nick one night through tears he couldn’t hold back about the first time his adoptive parents beat him, how it changed him, taught him to say yes. That was the first time John had pressed his lips against Nick’s, a shock to both of them, more so that it was one Nick returned, and one they chalked up to emotion and alcohol. Nick found him two weeks later, blood streaming from a deep gash across a new harshly scratched tattoo in his forearm, wrist to elbow opened, to finally let the pain out he said, words slurred and booze on his breath. Nick took him to the doctor’s surgery in town, hand clamped tightly over the wound with his shirt an ad hoc tourniquet round his arm, and he held his hand as they stitched the skin back together. Neither ever mentioned it to Joseph. 

When it became clear John’s obsession was driving a wedge between them, when Nick stopped calling by, spending more time at the bar than the airstrip, Joseph told John to buy him out. Told him he couldn’t be saved, he wouldn’t confess, he wouldn’t atone, but his business could still prove useful. John was incensed, adamant he could still get Nick to believe in the Project, in the Father, and in him. When he went back to him, when he spoke of all they had been through, when he told Nick it was the Father that had saved him, Nick barely listened, slurping from a can of beer, shaking his head. John told him that if he wouldn’t join them, he could at least be happy and free from the stress of running a business by turning it over to them, letting it be used for good and settling down somewhere else. Nick looked at him bewildered, like he couldn’t believe he even suggested it. Mentioned he’d only just managed to get his girl out there, that his family had built the business and his family would run it for years to come, that Holland Valley was his home and one he had never left. John felt like there was ice in his veins. He drowned a follower that night, holding them under the water during the cleansing and picturing the faceless girl settling down with Nick Rye, taking Nick Rye when he didn’t belong to her. He belonged by John’s side, safe in Eden’s Gate. He scrubbed his hands in the river until they bled, but he couldn’t get rid of the anger that seemed to permeate his skin.

John went to the airstrip once a week, repeating the offer, upping the price, wishing Nick would see sense, see the truth of the future, see what the price of freedom had cost the world. Sometimes Nick let him in. Sometimes he shouted it to him from his front porch. He told him of the Collapse, that the seals would be broken, Joseph’s prophecy would come true. That he was saving people by cleansing them, making them new and pure again, shedding their sins like the earth would shed the old order of things. Said pain brought clarity and acceptance and rebirth, that it was temporary for a permanent reward. Nick snapped at him, told him to fuck off with this religious bullshit, that he wanted nothing to do with him any more. That was the first time John killed someone after a confession, carving piece after piece from them, trying to get to their core, to their heart, to their soul, to figure them out and find out why they all chose not to be free. Screaming it was all their fault, if they would just choose to be free and say yes. When he went to the airstrip the following week, Nick was sat on his porch, 1911 in hand, sipping beer. John approached as usual, taken aback when he heard a shot, feeling the breeze of it just past his ear, Nick yelling to him it was private property and he needed to leave. John caught sight of a pair of curtains twitching upstairs, curious eyes peering down at the noise, down at him. He burned down the Armstrong place the next day, smearing Sinner across the walls himself, like the paint were a weapon against his anger. 

The next time John tried to approach Nick was at Church, a prophetic neutral ground, and one of the only places that still freely allowed the Seeds inside. He was sat in his usual pew, arm wrapped tightly around a woman with deep shining hair, one side shaved close to her head. She was wearing one of Nick’s flannel shirts, and John felt like the world had already been swallowed in flame. It was the woman who had turned to John, introduced herself as though she hadn’t watched Nick shoot at him, as though she hadn’t seen the anger bursting from him when John had finally left and he had punched a hole through the wall. It was her, sensing the tension between the two men, before either could talk, that invited him to the barbeque they were hosting, telling him to bring something to share and he was welcome. It was her who shushed Nick as he said he didn’t want John anywhere near them, said she did, and that she would get to know all her neighbours. It was her who ate the biggest portion of the awful mac and cheese that the Seed family brought, and that John had made himself, not noticing Faith trickle in a tiny vial of pale green liquid. He remembered Jacob stealing packets of the instant stuff from the corner shop on their street, the warmth filling his always growling belly feeling like home, tasting safe and comforting. Jacob never did teach him how to make his own.

When John heard about their engagement, he took a man from the group patrolling his ranch into his garage and strung him up on two sharp hooks, piercing his shoulders as he writhed in pain, and he scratched yes into every inch of skin he could see until the blood drained and turned him a deep glistening red. When he wouldn’t say yes to him through his screams, he cut his tongue out and forced it down his still screaming throat. The men outside said nothing as he called them in to take the body and burn it in the grounds at the back of the ranch, as he left to wash the blood from his face and hoped Nick could see the smoke. He knew he couldn’t hurt either of them, knew he wanted Nick safe, and now that meant she had to be too. And now he was one step further from salvation, and there would be hell to pay. 

Two days before they were due to marry, the church in Fall’s End mysteriously caught fire during the night. Only the steeple had burned by the time they managed to put it out, but it collapsed down into the roof, pulling part of it down with it. John came by the airstrip that day, the first time in months, all apologetic smiles and smooth words, offering them the Eden’s Gate alter and a lavish party for free, if they would only open themselves up to seeing the Project as a force for good, open their mind to the word of the Father, and stop condemning the group as cultists. Nick told him he would kill him the next time he saw him on his land, Kim yanking on his arm to keep him from swinging it at John, quipping that hitting him would earn him a broken hand and not much else. The whole of Holland Valley came together that day, giving any spare wood and tools they had to patch up the hole in the church roof for them, hanging soft white drapes from the ceiling to cover the worst of it, and hiding any hint of disaster with the twinkling glow of any fairy lights they could find. The day of the ceremony, Joseph found his little brother slumped in his bed, white powder and blown eyes telling him all he needed to in that moment, and he pulled him into his chest, stroking his hair like he used to when John was little, telling him he loved him, loved him more fiercely than the sin in his heart, that he had forgiveness and hope and purpose. Joseph took him to stay with him in his compound, gave him work cleansing new followers and helping with his sermons. John didn’t return to his ranch for 3 months. 

It became a back and forth from then on. Nick warned off anybody who would listen about the Seeds, made posters and banners for the growing resistance movement, stubbornly refused to sell off his business, despite money in the valley dwindling, despite the fact he and Kim barely had anything to live off any more, and most of the farms had been snatched up by the Seed family who dusted their own crops. John spread rumours, trying to undermine Nick, break his relationship, force him out and away from Holland Valley, away from the danger of things turing violent as the Project became more active, more visible, and more aggressive. He tried intimidation, he tried bargaining, he tried manipulation. Nick wouldn’t take any of it. Sometimes Nick let him drive up the airstrip, glaring at him, arms crossed from the hangar, and let him talk. Sometimes he pulled the gates shut and John yell from the road. He liked seeing the anger bristling under his skin, like he was on the edge of a tantrum, a kid throwing its toys out the pram. He didn’t know the dangerous depths of John’s rage, and the fury he could unleash when unrestrained. Sometimes John would steal things from the airstrip, said he was requisitioning supplies for the Project. Nick knew he had the law enforcement wrapped round his finger, like the rest of the county. When that didn’t work he would just purposefully destroy things. 

It came to a head when news spread that Kim was expecting. John knew this would be his only chance of forcing Nick to join the Project, knew Joseph wanted him as a symbol for the valley that the Project was the right choice, knew he wanted Nick for much more selfish reasons. He thought often of Nick’s smile, the gruff laugh he had in the mornings, when John turned up early with coffee and donuts, still hoarse from sleep. He thought of Nick’s hand running along the tail of Carmina so gently, with so much love, so much familiarity. He remembered how Carmina shone in the sun, a deep golden yellow, glowing. He knew Nick would protect the things he loved above anything else, and if John could show him that joining the Project was the only thing that would keep him safe, Nick might come to him. He sent his men down to the airstrip to steal everything people had given them once the news had broken, claiming they needed it for the bunker, for the expectant mothers that would be carrying the next generation on after the Collapse. No one ever questioned John, but they knew fine well he had money enough to buy all the supplies he would ever need, and the only people John actively targeted were Nick and Kim Rye. They believed it was simply because he refused him, and he was petty. When Nick opened the hangar to find everything gone, he knew exactly who had taken it, and he went wild. It was one thing to try and go after Nick’s business, but to steal something that was so clearly a symbol of people’s love for the Ryes, and was for his unborn child sent him over the edge. Without a word to Kim, he slammed the door of his truck, and took off screeching up the road to John’s ranch, his grip white-knuckle on the steering wheel. He had put up with this shit for years, for longer than he ought to. He knew John was in too deep in whatever plan it was Joseph was professing to know, knew he was blinded by love for his brother, and hatred for society and what it had done to him, and he almost forgave him. Forgave him his anger for the way his eyes used to shine when he talked about flying, forgave him his jealousness for the hours he had spent talking with him, opening him, seeing him. But this was too fucking much. 

“John! John fucking Seed, you rat bastard, get the fuck out here!” Nick stormed past the followers hanging around in front of the ranch, trying to ignore the fact they all held rifles and had started wearing body armour. He was screaming as loudly as he could, knowing John would hear him wherever he was inside. The followers knew they weren’t to touch people, weren’t to harm them, not yet, and they knew Nick Rye was a particular target for the Project, so they did nothing other than trying to slow him down as he smashed boxes over on his way to the ranch doors. 

“You sick fuck, you stealin’ stuff from babies now, that what you’re about?!” He slammed the doors to the ranch open, finding John at a long wooden table, documents in hand, clearly holding a meeting with some of the followers, Nick guessed they must be like commanders, shock clear on his features at the surprise intrusion. He thought Nick would confront him, but never imagined he’d actually come up to the ranch. He must really have rattled him. 

“Nick, you really should knock--”

“Fuck you, you don’t fuckin’ deserve manners, you don’t fuckin’ deserve knockin’-- you don’t fuckin’ deserve doors, you’re a Goddamn animal!” John swallows thickly at Nick’s rage, nodding at the followers in the room to get out, which they do immediately. He didn’t anticipate he would goad him so well. “What the fuck are you doin’, huh? You keep comin’ down to my fuckin’ business, tryin’ to buy me out, tryin’ to tell me this-this-this fuckin’ cult you got goin’ is gonna save people, that you’re tryin’ to help, and you come around and take shit that good people gave to us for our baby? This ain’t about fuckin’ business any more.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Nick-”

“Oh fuck that, you practically shit gold, you ain’t desperate for shit!” Nick grabbed hold of John by his shirt collar, bringing their faces inches apart as he growled at him. “You gotta fuckin’ stop this, John. You gotta fuckin’ stop, I ain’t joinin’. I ain’t followin’ you. This has been goin’ on for years, it has to fuckin’ stop.” He was breathing heavily, teeth gritted as he contemplated just strangling John right there and then, ending it all for both of them. He could see the fury burning in John’s eyes, and he tried to shove him off, but Nick’s grip was tight and his muscles stronger, bumping their noses in the struggle as he held him in place. 

“Nick, I can’t--”

“Stop that,” Nick shook him again, “this can’t keep happenin’, John, it’s gotta stop, you’ve gotta fuckin’ stop.” 

“If I stop, there’s no safety for you here! If you don’t join us you’re against us, Joseph will say you can’t be saved--”

“Fuck Joseph, fuck this shit, John. And fuck you!” 

“Nick, I am trying to fucking save you here, and you are so blinded by your arrogance, by your Greed that you would turn that down to spite me.”

“I ain’t yours for savin’, John. You need to fuckin’ forget this. I have my family to protect now, and the only thing threatenin’ that is you.”

“Bring your family, they’ll be safe with us in the Gate, just-- Nick, you have to join us, it’s the only way you’ll be safe. You’re right it's not about business, none of that is going to matter once the Collapse comes, it’s not about your sin, your beliefs, your happiness, this is bigger than any of that, and you can’t escape it. And I-- I can’t let--”

“John, fuckin’ stop with this. Stop it.”

“I can’t let you go.” Nick seethes at him for saying it. 

“Stop it.”

“Nick, I can’t let you go, I can’t leave this alone, I need you safe.” Nick looks like he wants to kill him, jaw clenched tightly, chest heaving as he inhales through his nose. He can see every emotion swimming in John’s eyes and he hates him for it. He can see the pleading and the rage and the love, he remembers his eyes looking the same way when he spoke about his past. He remembers it tugging at his heart painfully, or was it doing that now? He remembers being this close to him, same tightness in his chest, same anger, same urge to help him as John closed the gap between him and pressed his lips over his. Or was he doing that now? 

John was clinging to him desperately, hungrily, pulling Nick towards him by his scruffy flannel shirt, forehead pressed with his and tears filling his eyes. He felt like if he could get close enough, he could keep him here with him forever, he could make Nick see everything in his mind, make him see sense, that it was always all for him. 

“John, don’t fuckin’ do this--” Nick struggled against him, his heart breaking with every tug on his shirt, but he couldn’t just push him away. He wished he could, wished John Seed had never come down to his hangar, wished he hadn’t gotten under his skin. He tried so hard, he built a home with a woman he loved, and every damn time John Seed was in front of him again it was like nothing even mattered. He hated him for ruining that for him, and he hated him for making him care. 

“I need you safe, I need you here.”

“John, for fuck sake, would you stop--” Nick’s words fell short as John kissed him so hard neither of them could breathe, as Nick’s grip fell from his shirt and snaked round John’s waist, pulling him so hard against him he thought for sure he could snap him in half, guiding him until his back was flush against the table. God, he could crush this man, he should, he should punch and kick and scream and not cover him with soft kisses, not have his heart brimming when he looked at him. He shouldn’t relish the scrape of his beard against his cheek, he shouldn’t feel his rage turning to want as he pushes his thigh between John’s legs, hoisting him up by them to sit him on the table. He pushes John back with a hand on this throat, letting them both break, letting them breathe, and he knows he should clamp it down around it. 

“Nick--”

“Don’t. Don’t fuckin’ say anythin’.” John put his hand over Nick’s, hoping to convey words through touch, but Nick just pulled him forward, pulled his legs around him as he kissed him fiercely again, John pulling off Nick's already skewed hat and throwing it to the side, quickly shoving the shirt from Nick's shoulders as he tugged at the buttons on John's ridiculous vest, not caring if he tore them off. John kissed him like he couldn't get enough of him, like he'd found an oasis in the desert, and Nick wondered off-hand where this fit in to Joseph's vision, thoughts quickly blurring as John began pulling at his t-shirt, trying to get Nick to lift his arms so he could get it off him. He gave up caring about buttons as he yanked John's vest open, and instantly worked open his fucking silk shirt, eyeing the skin hungrily as he revealed it, dragging his teeth over every scar over his chest and biting down against his neck. He wished he could sink them deeper, tear his throat out, tear the evil and the anger out of him, tear out the scars. Stop this happening. But John let out a moan low in Nick’s ear at the feeling of his teeth on his skin, and Nick knee he couldn't stop if he wanted to. He wanted to fuck his hatred into him, fuck his love out of him, fuck him mindless and needy like he'd always wanted him to. 

Nick pulled greedily at the belt buckle around John's waist, loosening it off and unbuttoning the tight jeans underneath them, feeling John hard against them already, hating that he was too, and he tore them, underwear and all down past John's thighs, down to his ankles, trying to work his boots off so he could pull everything off of him in one go. He kissed John deeply again, teeth clashing and lips bruising as they both frantically undid Nick’s jeans, pushing them open just enough that his dick could finally stand free. Nick wrapped his arms around John's legs and pulled him roughly across the wood toward him, pushing between his thighs again as he laid John out beneath him, swollen lips and pink cheeks as he leaned over him to steal one more rough kiss. Both of them needed this, needed each other, and Nick spat in his hand, smearing it over himself, almost hoping that this would hurt, that John wouldn't be able to sit down properly for weeks, almost hoping it would make him bleed. That he'd feel that pain and think of Nick. The fucker deserved it. 

He gave John little warning as he positioned himself in front of his entrance, pushing into him in one quick rough motion until he was as deep as he could go, tears sliding out from John's eyes at the sudden shock of pain from Nick finally inside him, and Nick could hardly bear it. He swiped the tears from John’s face with his thumbs, their foreheads touching as Nick tried to get John to look at him, but he wouldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t handle the thought of seeing hatred in Nick’s eyes at that moment and letting him see him broken again. Nick hardly waited for John to adjust, pulling out from him and thrusting back in deep and stinging, but his touch had softened, and he ran his hands from John’s face down his chest, gripping his hips gently in stark contrast to his sharp movements, and John was lost in the duality of it all, wrapping his arms around Nick’s neck to pull him in for more needy kisses. Nick began to lose the roughness even of his movements, rocking up into John more gently than when he had started, knowing it wouldn’t last long for either of them, knowing this was all it would ever be, and he knew John felt this as much as he did, neither needing words to convey what they were feeling. John was pulling at him again, pulling him down flush against him, legs sliding round Nick’s hips as his pace quickened, pulling like it would keep Nick there with him always, and building the friction between them, rubbing against John’s own erection and he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, willing it away if it would give him a few more precious moments here like this. Nick was close too, all his anger twisting into his desire overwhelming him, John overwhelming him, the warmth of him round him, the sounds he was making, the flush in his cheeks, the way his ass felt against him as he pushed into him against the table. His pace quickly became erratic, and he could tell from John’s face he was about to come too, fingers digging like claws into Nick’s skin as he suddenly reached his release, tight around Nick and sending him over the edge as he came hard inside him, hips slowing and twitching as they both struggled to catch their breath. 

They stayed locked together in that position, chests heaving and silent, neither daring to move or speak to the other. Nick’s head had dropped to John’s chest, and he pressed lazy kisses against it, cursing himself for still being so fucking vulnerable, still being gentle with him. John was glad of it, hiding the fact the tears were still dripping from his eyes, one hand buried in Nick’s hair, trying to remember the feel of it all knots and tangles in his fingers, trying to remember the smell of his skin, and how his lips felt. Suddenly, just like that, Nick pulled out from John, pulling his jeans back up over his hips and fastening the buttons, not even looking towards John as he scooped up his discarded clothes and sat them on the table next to him. John finally pushed himself up with his elbows, sitting on the table edge as he began to pull his own jeans back on, trying to subtly wipe the damp streaks from his face. 

“...Nick--”

“Don’t. Just fuckin’ don’t, John.” 

“I can give you the stuf--”

“Don’t fuckin’ talk about it. I don’t want it back from you.”

“...will you--”

“John, shut the fuck up. This ends here, you hear me? You gotta stop doin’ this. I don’t want you near me or my family again.” John could hardly feel his anger from the pain in his chest, like Nick had pierced through him. He tried to reach out, tried to take Nick’s arm, but he shook him off like some insect had landed on him

“Just… please. Please be safe.” Nick sighed angrily, pulling his t-shirt back on, looking round for his hat. 

“This can’t happen. It ain’t gonna happen. I ain’t comin’ over to your side, and you ain’t comin’ to mine. We’re done with this, we made our beds.”   
“...I know.”

“...You fuckin’ better.”

“I know.”

Nick stormed out from the ranch, hat pulled low over his eyes as he tried to ignore the followers on his way back to his truck, leaving John sat on the table, wracked with sobs the minute he heard the door close. Nick drove back to his hangar, bypassing the house, immediately cracking open a beer and heading straight for the shower. It took 4 washes until he felt clean enough to face Kim, and he couldn’t stomach the beer, throwing up almost as soon as he swallowed it. John’s men had never seen him in such a rage, screaming at his men as he pulled one into his car and drove him to his almost finished bunker. He was never seen again, no body ever appeared, no sight of him, nothing.

A letter appeared on Nick’s porch about a week later. John’s final plea to him. Nick read it through, skimming it like it were junk mail, and left it outside on the bench. Kim knew better than to ask him about it.


End file.
